


I'll tend to the flame, you can worship the ashes

by OutoftheBlueDreamer



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Booker | Sebastien le Livre Needs Therapy, Booker | Sebastien le Livre Needs a Hug, Booker | Sebastien le Livre is a Dad(tm), Child Death, Dreams and Nightmares, Hurt Booker | Sebastien le Livre, Insecure Booker | Sebastien le Livre, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), Soft Booker | Sebastien le Livre, Soft Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Soft Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, ambiguous timeline, its all very soft ok, set in France
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:09:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28939728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OutoftheBlueDreamer/pseuds/OutoftheBlueDreamer
Summary: This fic has it all: children in danger, Booker being a complete Dad (not literally), JoeNicky sweetness, an abundance of French terms of endearment, an angsty frenchman who struggles with emotions, an intimate shaving scene, Nicky's lovely cooking, Booker feeling unworthy of love, and much much more.
Relationships: Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolo di Genova, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 11
Kudos: 62





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Any words in italics/another language are pet names/terms of endearment.  
> 

Downtime between missions usually meant lying low and staying out of the public’s eye. But here, in the smallest of towns in the French countryside, they could afford to let their guards down just a bit. There were no cameras and no prying questions, they were simply travelers just passing through. And if Booker seemed more at ease than ever and even smiled some, well, the others weren’t going to say anything.

He hadn’t been back to his homeland in decades, not since Jean-Pierre had died. And while the sting of his loss was still prominent, he was taking the opportunity to be grateful for some of the comforts of home that he didn’t realize how much he missed them, such as a proper croissant and a decent cup of coffee. He had even kept his flask hidden away in his jacket pocket all morning instead of using it to spike his coffee like he did every other day.

Things were quiet at the small cafe they were sitting at, with Booker enjoying his second pastry of the morning while Joe and Nicky debated what they were going to do with their day off. Booker made an active effort not to listen to that conversation too closely. He took the final sip of his coffee and was about to ask the kind woman serving them for another cup when he saw two young girls come barreling down the street.

They were practically tripping over themselves and were clearly scared--of what, he could not say. As soon as the girls saw them, they cried out for help. Booker was on his feet before he knew it, striding over to the nearest child, who could not be more than eight years of age, and crouching down in front of her.

“What is wrong, _ma puce_?” Booker asked gently, instinctively reaching out to brush away her tears. “What has happened?”

“We-we were playing,” she mumbled out between her tears, and god she reminded him of his Jean-Pierre when he was a child, blond curls sticking to her face and lip quivering as she spoke. “We were playing in the manor on the hill. And suddenly there was smoke a-and fire, and we-we can’t-” she swallowed as a sob tore through her throat. Booker felt his heart drop to his stomach, he gently took her face in his hands and looked her in the eye.

“You can’t what?” He asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

The girl sniffled hard and looked up at him with wide eyes. “We cannot find Amelie and Julien,” she whispered back.

“Show me where,” he said as he stood. “C’mon, quickly,” he urged and the girl set off running again with Booker right on her heels.

\----------------------------------------------------

When Booker stood, Joe and Nicky paused their conversation, instead preferring to keep an eye on the younger man. The girl seemed incredibly upset and was talking animatedly in rapid-fire French with Booker. Joe had a feeling he knew where this was going and quickly flagged down their server to pay for the three of them. He and Nicky exchanged a concerned look before cleaning up the table, Joe shoving his sketchbook and ballcap into his backpack. By the time Joe looked up again, Booker had taken off, sprinting down the road after the girl he had just been talking to.

“Shit,” they said in unison, scrambling to their feet and scooping up their few belongings to follow Booker. The path the girl had led them up curved through the woods and uphill. The two of them crested the hill and saw exactly what the cause of the commotion was. In front of them was a gorgeous estate with a large farmhouse at the far end of the garden. A farmhouse that was flooded in flames, puffing out clouds of dark smoke like a blacksmith’s workshop. Joe’s shoulders slumped as he saw a figure that could only be Booker charge into the house, leaving the young girl to watch and wait out in the yard.

\----------------------------------------------------

Booker slowed to a stop a safe distance from the house, placing his hands on the girl’s shoulders. “You stay right here, okay? My friends will be here soon to wait with you. I will find your friends, I promise.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head before turning and running up the steps and through the front door, not even bothering to cover his mouth to protect against the smoke, knowing that it’s just about useless as his lungs will keep repairing themselves regardless of smoke inhalation.

“Julien! Amelie!” Booker shouted before breaking into a vicious cough as the ash and smoke burned his throat and stung his eyes. He began his sweep on the first floor, checking under tables and knocking open cabinets and closets, trying to think of anywhere a child might hide if they were afraid. He continued calling their names, voice growing hoarser with each passing moment. When he was confident that he had checked the entire first story, he steeled himself before climbing the fiery staircase, moving as fast as he could in the off chance they might collapse out from under him.

“Julien?” He cried again as he started pushing open doors to bedrooms, checking in closets and under beds. “Amelie?” He practically begged as the smoke grew thicker around him. He returned to the hallway and called their names again, listening closely for any response. After a moment he heard a cry from further down the hall and Booker could have cried in relief. He rushed to where he heard the sound, cursing when he realized the door was stuck closed. After taking a step back, Booker kicked in the door and looked around frantically. “Amelie? Julien? Are you in here?”

He crouched and found a small girl curled up under a desk, sobbing softly. Booker tried his best to give her a gentle smile and shifted closer. “Amelie?” The girl nodded. “Hello, my name is Sebastien, I’m here to help you get out, sound good?” She hesitated before nodding, rubbing at her eye with a fist.

“Come here,” Booker said softly and waved her over, holding his arms open. She crawled out from her hiding spot and jumped into his embrace, locking her arms around his neck. He scooped her up with one arm and glanced around, debating the best exit strategy. He couldn’t very well take her back down the stairs through the flames that roared in the hall. Reluctantly he looked to the window, relaxing barely when he saw his team outside.

“Amelie? I know it is scary, but I need you to be brave for me? Can you do that?” Booker whispered to the girl cradled close to his chest. He watched her hesitant nod as he wrenched the window open. He offered her a bright smile. “I thought so. You seem like a very brave girl, _mon amie_.”

He turned his attention back out the window, crouching to poke his head outside. “Joe! Nicky!” He shouted to get their attention before continuing in English so that the child did not hear his plan. “I’ve found the girl, but I can’t take her down the stairs, it’s too dangerous. Do you think you could catch her?” His hand found its way to the back of Amelie’s head, gently stroking her hair while he waited for the boys’ response. He could hear them talking hurriedly in Arabic but couldn’t make out what they were saying. All he could hope was that they came to an answer quickly. His hopes came true a second later when Joe looked back up at him and nodded, calling back up to him, “I will catch her.”

Booker gave him a thumbs up before turning back to Amelie. “Here is what we are going to do. My friend is waiting outside the window and he will catch you. All you need to do is keep your eyes closed and let go of me when I tell you to. Can you do that?”

Amelie’s eyes widened at the thought and she shook her head before hiding her face in his neck. He could feel her breathing picking up as she started crying again. “Shhh, you will be alright. I promise, okay? And I never break my promises,” he spoke gently and brushed the tears from her face. “Be brave for just a few minutes, _ma puce_. You can do it.”

Not waiting for her answer, Booker leaned over and held her out the window. “Just close your eyes,” he reminded her gently. Her eyes searched his face in a panic, and he gently pressed his forehead against hers. “Close your eyes, it will be over in a moment, I promise.” Amelie nodded ever so slightly before squeezing her eyes shut tight. Booker relaxed barely, pressing a kiss to her temple before reluctantly letting her go. She cried out as she slipped from his arms and flailed a bit as she fell, but luckily Joe was there to catch her, as promised, with Nicky close behind to help calm her down.

The house groaned around him as the fire threatened its structural integrity. Booker cursed under his breath. He still had another child to find. Back to the hallway he went, pushing open doors left and right as he called Julien’s name over and over. He had just about given up hope when he noticed a door shut with a towel shoved in the crack under it. He burst through the door, coughing as the smoke continued to grow thicker around him.

“Julien? Are you in here?” Booker pleaded desperately as he squinted to look around what he now realized was a bathroom. There came a sound from the bathtub and Booker shoved the shower curtain aside to find a small boy, no older than 5, hugging his knees and crying softly.

“Are you Julien?” Booker asked patiently, though he couldn’t help but to glance back over his shoulder nervously as the smoke continued to fill the room.

“Oui,” Julien said between sniffles, looking up at Booker with wide eyes.

“My name is Sebastien, I’m going to get you out of here, I promise,” he said as he gently picked Julien up, holding him close to his chest. Julien clung to him tightly, his small cough wracking his body. Booker had to get him out of there, and fast. The heat and the smoke were overpowering as they entered the hall, trying to get back to the room where Booker had found Amelie, hoping that Joe, or Nicky would be waiting below.

Booker had made it but a couple of paces down the hall when he heard the building groan around him. He looked around in a panic before checking the top of the stairway again. For lack of a better outlet, Booker steeled himself before hopping over the banister to the floor below. He landed mostly upright, but cursed when his ankle gave way. He stumbled blindly down the corridor until a sharp crack sounded above them. On instinct Booker doubled over and curled around the boy, doing all that he could to cover him as part of the roof gave way overhead.

When Booker came to again, he groaned at the feeling of bones trying to knit themselves back together. His head was fuzzy and he was vaguely aware that he had probably just died. Slowly he became more self aware, feeling a pair of small hands on his face, very small hands for that matter. Booker frowned and forced his eyes open only to be greeted by a pair of wide eyes mere inches away from his.

“Monsieur Sebastien?” Julien’s small voice ventured as he stared at Booker, looking both terrified and terribly worried.

“Julien?” Booker managed out, turning onto his side and biting back a wince. “Are you alright?” Booker asked insistently as he glanced over the boy who seemed no worse for the wear. Julien gave him a very quick nod and Booker relaxed some. He glanced around and was relieved to see how close the exit was.

“Julien,” Booker said as he forced himself a bit more upright, but still slumped against what felt like a rather unstable wall. “Do you see that space there?” He gestured to a small clearing where a beam was leaning against the wall, leaving a small crawl space below it that would lead straight to the front door. Julien nodded again.

“Good,” he said. “I want you to crawl through there and get outside, your friends will be waiting for you.” Julien nodded but seemed hesitant, he glanced between his escape route and Booker with uncertainty. “What about you?”

“I will be right behind you, my friends are waiting too,” Booker promised with a small smile. “Now go.” He nudged Julien in the direction of the door and relaxed slightly when the boy went. Booker leaned back against the wall with a sigh and let his eyes slip closed. The smoke had made him light-headed and he could still feel bones shifting and realigning in his back. He’d wait just a minute until he could get his feet back under him, besides it wasn’t like staying any longer was going to kill him.

\----------------------------------------------------

Joe paced anxiously in the garden, counting the minutes that Booker had been inside. He couldn’t help but think of all of the terrible things that could be happening in there, what horrors Booker might find. The young girl who had led them there, Genevieve was her name, had explained to the two of them that her friend and younger brother were still trapped inside. So far they had gotten her friend, Amelie, out of the house through the window. She had been terrified but she had since begun to calm down, sitting in Nicky’s lap under a tree that was a safe distance away from the raging fire.

About five minutes after the roof partially collapsed, Joe was ready to go in and drag Booker out himself. Nicky had told him to just be patient and that Book could handle himself, but with each passing minute Joe felt less and less confident in Nicky’s reassurances. He was about to make his move when he saw a soot-stained boy stumble out the front of the building and rush down the stairs. Joe crossed the garden in long strides and waved the boy over. He gave Julien a soft smile and knelt to be closer to his height. “Are you Julien? Genevieve’s brother?” Julien nodded and watched Joe with wide eyes.

“Are you Sebastien’s friend?” He wondered aloud before coughing. Joe nodded and instinctively rubbed Julien’s back while he coughed, waiting for the boy’s breathing to settle down again. He hesitated before glancing back at the house and then at Julien, forcing himself to keep his tone even. “Do you know where Sebastien is?”

Julien frowned and turned around quickly, searching the doorway and front of the house for his new friend and savior. “He was--” Julien started before a small sob crawled up his throat. He sniffled and wiped at his face with his sleeve. “He said he was right behind me!” His voice took on the panic that now graced his face and Joe immediately pulled him close, rubbing circles in his back and hushing him gently. “It is alright. Everything will be okay.” 

Joe gently scooped him up in his arms and held him close as he walked over towards where Nicky was sitting with the other kids. “Why don’t we find your sister, she’s been very worried about you, you know,” Joe tried to give a small playful smile and gently poked Julien in the stomach. Julien squirmed and Joe relaxed when he saw a hint of a smile cross the boy’s face, a welcome change from his tear stained cheeks and sniffling nose.

As he grew closer, Genevieve looked up from Nicky’s story-telling and her eyes widened. “Julien!” she cried and jumped to her feet, rushing to meet Joe and nearly bowling him over in her efforts to get to her little brother. Joe gently set him down and smiled as the siblings embraced. But when he made eye contact with Nicky, his expression was hard, bordering on somber as he pursed his lips and shook his head ever so slightly. Nicky reached for his hand and Joe gave it to him, allowing himself to be pulled closer so Nicky could kiss his knuckles lightly. “Do not worry, I’m sure he will be right out.”

But after five minutes and no sign of Booker, Joe had made up his mind. He shed his sweatshirt and handed it to Nicky and took off at a run before anyone could stop and question him. He faintly heard Nicky’s voice call out after him but it was quickly drowned out by the roar of the fire as Joe hurried up the steps and inside. His eyes watered and his chest ached as he breathed in the smoke and ash and started his blind search for Booker.

“Sebastien!” Joe yelled at the top of his lungs, looking around frantically and starting to clear a path into the corridor that led to the stairs. “Book, where are you? It’s time to go!” He cursed under his breath as his hands burned as he sifted through the rubble. Joe was starting to wonder just how big this house was and just how far Booker could have gone when he caught sight of a shadowy figure on the ground a few feet ahead of him.

“Booker!” Joe yelled to him but got no response. Shit. He shoved aside a burning beam that practically disintegrated in his hands; it was so damaged. He hurried over and crouched down next to Booker’s slumped form. “Hey, Book, c’mon, wake up,” Joe muttered as he lightly smacked the younger man’s cheeks. Booker’s nose scrunched barely and his brow furrowed but otherwise he didn’t react much. 

Joe rolled his eyes and cursed under his breath in Arabic. “Sebastien, enough of this,” Joe insisted and hit him a little harder and--ah there he was. Booker’s eyes fluttered open, unfocused and confused. “There we go,” Joe grinned and ran a thumb over Booker’s cheekbone. “That’s it, Basti, come back to me.”

Booker frowned at the use of his old nickname and tried to shake Joe off. He froze as he seemed to realize where they were and his eyes widened. “Where is Julien? Is he alright?” He demanded, and Joe had never seen Booker look so scared in the two hundred years he had known the man.

“The boy is fine,” Joe soothed and shifted back a little. “But now it’s time to get you out of here too, hmm?” He raised an eyebrow and watched Booker closely, relaxing only when Booker nodded in agreement. Joe stood and offered him a hand which Booker took gratefully and pulled himself to his feet. He seemed a bit shaky, but overall in one piece which Joe was grateful for.

Joe wrapped an arm around Booker to steady him, just in case, and guided him out the front door and down the steps. Booker squinted into the sudden sunlight and coughed, willing his lungs to take in the fresh air from the garden. Joe held him steady until he straightened again, subconsciously rubbing circles in his back just as he had done for Julien.

“You alright?” Joe asked quietly, only for Booker to give him a quick nod of his head and shrug him off. He looked back to Booker’s face, only to find his usual tight and guarded expression secured back in place once more. Joe just sighed and followed Booker as he made a bee-line for Nicky and the children.

\----------------------------------------------------

Julien was the first to notice them approaching and he scrambled to get off Nicky’s lap, tumbling over in the process before jumping to his feet. “Monsieur Sebastien!” He cried with glee and rushed over. Booker dropped to a knee to catch his embrace and his tough exterior cracked as he broke into a grin, holding the boy close.

“Julien!” Booker cried, matching the young one’s smile. “You are alright?” The boy nodded and hugged him tighter. Before Booker had a chance to look up, another pair of arms wrapped around him. Glancing up he saw Amelie’s face, quickly followed by Genevieve’s as the three kids wrapped him in a group hug. He chuckled and gave them all a quick squeeze before pulling away to stand up. The volunteer fire crews were showing up now to try and put out the blaze, and it was only a matter of time before people started asking questions.

He glanced at Nicky who was getting to his feet and brushing himself off, and then at Joe who was standing just a fraction too close in his personal space. Booker resisted the urge to roll his eyes before clearing his throat. He looked back to the kids and offered a small smile. “My friends and I need to get going, but you all be good, alright? Look after each other.” When they all nodded in return and promised to stay out of trouble, Joe could have sworn he saw Booker’s smile reach his eyes for the first time since he first died.

The three of them picked up their scant belongings and began the walk back to their safehouse before any adults could take note of their presence.


	2. Chapter 2

When they got back to the safehouse, Booker was exhausted. It had been a long day and honestly all he wanted to do was to curl up in bed. But he had a sneaking suspicion that Nicky and Joe wouldn’t approve of him getting blood, soot, and ash on the sheets, so he opted for a shower instead. He made a beeline for the bathroom without bothering to offer it to either of the others first. If Joe was that desperate to get clean, there was a hose out back.

He closed the door behind him and turned the shower on as hot as it would go and waited for it to heat up. In the meantime, Booker shed his bloody and burnt layers, leaving a pile of clothes in the corner of the bathroom to be dealt with later. Only then did he stop and take the time to look himself over in the mirror. His face was stained gray as the smoke found its way into every pore and crease of his skin. His eyes were bloodshot and there was some blood caked in his hair but overall he looked none the worse for the wear.

Once the steam started to fill the air, Booker cracked a window to keep it from getting too stuffy and he climbed in the shower. The water was hot enough to hurt his skin just enough to sting; it was perfect. He slathered his hair with shampoo and then he scrubbed his skin until it started to bleed, turning the water a faint pink as it ran through his fingers. He paused and rested his head against the tiles, taking a deep shaky breath. Logically, he knew that the day was a success and that everyone was alright, but at the same time he couldn’t stop replaying the events and wondering about all of the what ifs. He stayed there a while until he dimly realized that the water was growing cool. He faced directly into the spray and scrubbed his face over quickly and rinsed the shampoo from his hair.

He shut off the water and grabbed a towel, drying off enough that he wouldn’t drip all over the floor before tying it around his waist. Booker hesitated before cracking the door open in an effort to clear the steam from the room. He went to the sink and wiped a hand over the mirror to clear away the fogginess. While he looked much cleaner, he could still see the exhaustion of the day coloring his face. Right as he went to turn away and go find clothes, something caught his eye in the mirror. He leaned in closer and ran his fingers over the stubble that dusted his cheeks and jaw. 

“ _Merde,_ ” Booker cursed as his fingertips brushed over uneven patches of hair and skin where his face had been burned and healed earlier. He couldn’t very well just wait for it to grow back in; it would be uneven and patchy at best. Reluctantly, Booker began searching the vanity and the linen closet for any sort of shaving supplies. It had been nearly sixty years since this safehouse was used, but there was bound to be something seeing as Nicky has been clean shaven for as long as Booker has known him.

Eventually he came across a half empty tin of shaving soap, a long since dried out brush, and a straight razor that seemed still sharp enough to get the job done. He had just gotten the soap to lather when there was a knock at the door. Booker brought his gaze up and glanced over at the door with the brush halfway to his face. He was greeted by the sight of Joe’s head popping through the partially open door.

“C’mon, Book. Are you almost done? Nicky’s making dinner and my hair still smells like a campfire,” Joe was saying as he peered inside, trailing off as he took in the sight of Booker in front of him.

Booker rolled his eyes and started lathering soap along his jaw. “Patience is a virtue, Yusuf,” he replied and actively tried to ignore the curious expression that had taken over Joe’s face.

“Are you trying out a new look, Sebastien?” Joe had to fight to keep the excitement of his intrigue out of his voice. Booker stiffened at his apparent amusement and refused to look at him. Joe seemed to sense his discomfort and stopped grinning, opting instead to close the gap between them and wrap an arm around his waist. “Hey, what’s going on in that head of yours?”

Booker just shook his head. “It is nothing, merely frustration that the hair will grow back uneven if I leave it as is.” He had hoped to calm Joe with his words, but unfortunately his body betrayed him when he reached for the razor and his hand was shaking enough that he fumbled and dropped it in the sink.

Joe pursed his lips and sighed, planting a kiss on Booker’s bare shoulder. “Sit,” Joe said and nodded to the closed toilet seat, gently nudging Booker in that direction. “I’ll take care of it.”

Booker sighed but did as he was told, sitting and looking up at Joe apprehensively. “No offense, Joe, but I happen to know that you haven’t shaved in at least a century.”

“What? Do you not trust me, Basti?” Joe said and dramatically threw a hand against his chest in mock offense. “When have I ever led you astray?”

At that, Booker snorted. “Plenty of times, _mon coeur,_ but that is aside from the point. It is not you that I do not trust, but rather your lack of experience.”

Joe waved away his comments and nudged his knees apart to kneel between them. “What is the worst that could happen? In the off chance you get nicked, it will be healed before you can even notice.”

Booker shifted a bit anxiously. “One can never be too careful where his neck is concerned,” he said and offered Joe a tight smile. And that was enough for Joe’s playful attitude to die down once again. At the responding silence, Booker caved and looked down to meet Joe’s eyes. They were warm and kind as ever, a deep and cozy brown that previously shined with excitement, but had now toned down to something nearing that of compassion. Joe ran a hand through Booker’s hair before leaning in and planting a kiss on his forehead.

“In the centuries that I have spent with Nicolo, I have never once drawn his blood while shaving. I intend for the same to be true for you, _habibi_.” Joe said it with such sincerity and certainty that Booker was at a loss for words. So instead he just swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, managing out in a soft whisper, “okay.”

“Stay still,” Joe ordered before gently tilting Booker’s face to the side so he could guide the razor down his cheek. He wiped the blade on Booker’s towel before continuing, taking his time and taking great care to avoid any mishaps. Booker kept his eyes glued to Joe as he worked, taking in their close proximity and the way Joe’s tongue slipped out the corner of his mouth when he was really concentrating. And all at once Booker wondered if this was what it was like to be the paper beneath Joe’s charcoal, a masterpiece in the making that fully depended on the artist’s dedication and precision. His eyes pricked with tears at the thought of being seen as something so valuable as one of Joe’s works of art, a comparison of which he knew he was not worthy.

As Joe finished, he set the razor down on the edge of the sink and grabbed the hand towel, wiping the remains of the soap from Booker’s face. “There we go, that’s better,” he said with a soft smile before leaning in and placing a chaste kiss to Booker’s lips. He broke into a grin as he looked Booker over and nodded in approval. “Still one of the most handsome men to ever walk this earth,” Joe declared.

Booker felt his cheeks and ears grow warm as he ducked his head to avoid meeting Joe’s gaze. “ _Merci beaucoup,_ ” he mumbled under his breath before kissing Joe’s cheek. He nudged Joe’s side with his knee and nodded to the long vacant shower. “You best get washed up, Nicky will be upset if dinner is ready before we are.”

Joe heaved a sigh before nodding and getting up with some reluctance. Booker relaxed minutely and stood before padding down the hall to the bedroom he had claimed as his own. Nicky had frowned at him when he initially set up camp in the small bedroom with the twin size bed. Even though he was part of the relationship now and knew he was always welcome in their bed, Booker wasn’t quite ready to believe it wholeheartedly. Instead he kept to himself unless Joe or Nicky specifically asked him to come to bed with them. He didn’t want to wake them with his nightmares and he certainly didn’t want to interrupt any other night time activities they may have planned.

Booker quickly dressed in sweatpants and a henley and some part of his brain vaguely noted that it had been Joe’s shirt originally. It was a little short on him but that only mattered if he reached his hands above his head for whatever reason and, considering he was the tallest of the three, there was rarely a reason to. As he pulled the shirt over his head, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the bedside table and grimaced. He hadn’t been clean shaven since his wife was still pregnant with Jean-Pierre. He knew he had kept the beard for a reason. He tried to put off going downstairs for dinner as long as he could, but as soon as he heard the water stop running in the bathroom, he knew his time was up.

Booker forced himself to go meet Nicky in the kitchen, heavy footfalls on the old staircase announcing his return. Nicky looked up from where he was setting the table and Booker saw him falter. Booker bristled under his gaze and clenched his jaw. He passed the table in favor of busying himself getting wine glasses from the cabinet, knowing that Nicky would never say no to a good red with dinner. “If you’ve got any clever comments, Nicolo, I suggest you keep them to yourself,” he muttered as he placed the glasses on the table.

“How could I be clever when you show up looking like this, stealing all words from my mouth and thoughts from my mind, _amore mio_ ,” Nicky said, grabbing Booker’s arm gently as he passed him once more in the search for a bottle of wine. He pulled him closer and snuck a quick kiss on his smooth cheek and hummed in contentment.

Booker smirked and glanced at Nicky with an arched eyebrow. “Did you steal that one from Joe? I didn’t know we were allowed to steal his lines. I’ll have to keep that in mind.” He chuckled and ducked when Nicky swatted at the back of his head in retaliation. As Joe lumbered down the stairs now clad in pajamas and hair still damp, Booker took his place at the table while Nicky brought the dishes of food to the table.

The room fell quiet as they all busied themselves with filling their plates and glasses before promptly filling their mouths. Booker had to admit that even though he didn’t have much of an appetite, Nicky’s cooking was amazing enough that he rarely was able to keep himself to one helping. Joe and Nicky got second helpings that night, but Booker had slowed down about halfway through his first and spent the better part of his time at the table just pushing food around his plate between sips of wine. He could feel Joe eyeing him from across the table as he reached for the wine bottle to pour himself another glass.

“Are you feeling alright, Book?” Joe finally asked and Booker could feel both his and Nicky’s eyes trained on him. He looked up and glanced between them, feigning innocence. “I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” Out of the corner of his eye he swore he saw Nicky give him a quick shake of his head.

Joe glanced at Nicky and they seemed to have a silent conversation right in front of him. It drove Booker crazy when they did that. He always felt especially left out from not having all the experience they each had in reading each other’s expressions and body language. It lasted a moment, less than a minute even, but Booker was tired and had had enough. He swiftly stood and scooped up his place setting, pausing only to press a kiss to the top of Nicky’s head and murmur to him, “Dinner was excellent as always, _mon coeur_ , thank you.” 

And with that he retreated to the sink to wash his dishes. He would have much rathered to have left them in the sink to deal with later, but he knew that if he left them then Joe would just clean them after he went to bed, and as annoyed as he was with Joe at the moment, it didn’t seem fair to make him do any more work than he had to. So Booker scrubbed his dishes and then scrubbed the dirty pan from the stove with the same ferocity with which he had scrubbed the blood and grime from his skin earlier in the day. He was vaguely aware of the hushed conversation happening in the room behind him, but he could not bring himself to care.

Booker went to reach for the last of the cooking utensils and cutting board left scattered around the stove when Joe’s hand lightly fell on his arm. Booker stiffened under his touch. Joe frowned and gently rubbed his thumb in small, soothing circles along Booker’s bicep where his hand was resting. “I’m sorry if I upset you before, my love,” Joe spoke softly as he stepped behind Booker and rested his chin on his shoulder. Booker sighed and relaxed a little into the warmth of Joe leaning against his back.

“C’mon, leave these to me, you’ve had a long day,” Joe murmured in his ear as he wrapped his arms around the younger man’s waist. After a moment Booker reluctantly nodded, turning in Joe’s arms and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Now get up to bed, you look ready to fall asleep standing here,” Joe said with a small smile. “Nicky and I will be up in a moment.”

Booker faintly wondered what that mattered with regards to him but he was too tired to ask. Instead he just nodded and made his way back upstairs, turning into his own bedroom and sprawling out on the bed that was decidedly too small for a man of his stature.

\----------------------------------------------------

Nicky picked up the last of the dishes and brought them to the sink where Joe was working on cleaning up. He could tell by Joe’s furrowed brow and pursed lips that he still had plenty more to say on the matter that had brought their dinner to such an abrupt end, but mercifully had managed to keep it to himself while Booker was still present.

“What’s troubling you, my love?” Nicky asked as he put away the leftover food from dinner. He glanced over to find that Joe had stopped with the dishes and was now just gripping the edge of the sink. Nicky knew better than to interrupt his thought process, so he just waited in silence, leaning against the kitchen counter and watching Joe closely.

“He’s hiding something,” Joe said after a moment, sounding defeated. Nicky just hummed in agreement and nodded.

“That is hardly a first,” Nicky replied with a sigh before going over and wrapping himself around Joe, resting his head against the back of Joe’s neck.

“Why doesn’t he trust us?” Joe said suddenly, frustration slipping into his voice. Nicky frowned and just pulled Joe closer. “I do not think it is a lack of trust, _habibi_. I just don’t think that he is one to feel so outwardly as you and I,” Nicky soothed. “He just needs time, and we have all the time in the world,” he added and pressed a kiss to the corner of Joe’s jaw.

“Now come,” Nicky said as he took Joe’s hand in his and started dragging him towards the staircase. “It’s late, we can finish the dishes in the morning.”

“If you say so,” Joe said and lifted Nicky’s hand to place a kiss on his knuckles before following him up to bed.

Nicky grinned as he pulled Joe along, only slowing down when they got to the top of the stairs and doing his best to be quiet in case Booker was already asleep. He and Joe crept into their room and Nicky stopped short, letting go of Joe’s hand. “Bastard,” he muttered at the empty bed and turned on his heel, pushing Joe aside to cross the hall to Booker’s room. He pushed the door open and walked over to the bed where Booker was clearly not yet asleep.

“What do you think you are doing?” Nicky demanded, looking down at Booker and trying his best to keep a blank face. Booker blinked up at him with lidded eyes and glanced between him and Joe, who was now standing in the doorway.

“Is...is this a rhetorical question?” Booker asked around a yawn and propped himself up on one elbow.

“Come to bed, Sebastien,” Joe said with an exasperated sigh behind him.

Booker paused at that and glanced between the two of them once more. “Are you sure you want me to…?” He trailed off in a small voice, looking more than a bit lost.

“Basti, _amore mio_ , how many times must we remind you that you are always welcome and wanted in our bed?” Nicky pleaded.

“At least once more, _mon coeur_ ,” he responds quietly, voice rough with exhaustion and emotion.

“Please come to bed,” Nicky said and watched him with the patience of a saint. After a moment, Booker nodded and stood, running a hand through his hair roughly before heading for the doorway. Nicky took one of Booker’s hands in his own while Joe took the other, each bestowing a kiss upon the backs of his hands as they crossed the hall together.

Joe climbed into bed first and Nicky nudged Booker forward to follow. He watched his lovers settle into bed before shutting off the light and following suit. The three of them just barely fit in the double bed, but it was cozy rather than cramped. Nicky curled up close, pressed against Booker’s back and wrapping an arm snugly around his waist. It was a moment later when Nicky felt the warmth of Joe’s arm draped across the two of them. Slowly, one by one, they all fell asleep in the warmth of the embrace of their lovers.

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That night, Booker dreamt of times long since past. He dreamt of memories that had started to fade from his conscious mind. He dreamt of warm days on the beach with his wife and their boys, of teaching them to swim in the same sea where he had learned as a child. He dreamt of the cool winter’s breeze and cuddling up with them under a mound of blankets. He dreamt of the stern look in his wife’s eyes whenever he came home with a few more francs than he ought to have. 

Eventually his dreams shifted, and while he seemed to have been graced with a night free of Quynh’s drowning, he was not spared from his own personal nightmares. He could feel the cold of the Russian winter seeping into his bones, shivers wracking his body regardless of how physically warm he was pressed between Joe and Nicky’s bodies. Visions of death danced in his head, both his own and those of his family. The horror and memory of it all reached down his throat and gripped his heart and lungs tight until he felt like he couldn’t breathe any more.

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Nicky peeked an eye open in the stark darkness of their bedroom. They’d been asleep for a couple hours at this point, judging by the moon’s position out the window. But what had awoken him was Booker lying restless beside him. While he still seemed to be asleep, his body was taut and shaking. Nicky shifted beside him and gently ran his fingers through Booker’s hair.

“Shhh, my love, you are alright,” Nicky urged softly, pulling Booker closer to him. After a moment, Booker fell still. Too still, Nicky realized after a second. He scrambled to sit up and shook Booker’s shoulder. “Sebastien, wake up!” Nicky muttered insistently, and shook Booker a little harder, waking up Joe in the process.

“What,” Joe started to ask as he looked around blearily for an intruder or other cause for them to stir at this hour, brows furrowed in confusion as he took in the sight before him.

Before Nicky had a chance to explain, Booker gasped awake and scrambled to sit upright. His eyes were wide but unseeing as they darted around the room and his breath came in gasps. Nicky glanced to Joe who looked equally concerned as Booker sank forward with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

“Shhh, Basti, deep breaths,” Nicky murmured as he shifted closer to Booker again, gently rubbing his back. “It’s just a nightmare, you’re safe here.” He frowned when Booker just shook his head in response.

“C’mon Book, have a little faith. Nicky and I would never let anything happen to you,” Joe piped up from over Booker’s other shoulder. Booker looked as though he wanted to say something before he shook his head again. His breathing had finally leveled out but Nicky could still see the unshed tears in his eyes.

“I need some air,” Booker finally croaked out before detangling himself from the other two and leaving the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Nicky looked to Joe who just returned his exhausted expression. “I’ll make some tea,” Joe said softly after a moment before moving to get up, but first he planted a kiss on Nicky’s cheek. “Bring a blanket, he’s going to be freezing at this hour,” Joe muttered as he got up and padded down to the kitchen. Nicky nodded and gathered up the warmest blankets they had before following Joe downstairs

\----------------------------------------------------

Booker’s head was still spinning as he stepped out onto the back porch of the safehouse and into the cool night air. There wasn’t much to see out here in the dark, just the faint silhouettes of the rolling hills and occasional trees. He eased down on the steps and lit a cigarette with shaking hands. He took a drag and ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm his mind in the aftershock of his nightmares. This was exactly why he hadn’t wanted to sleep with Joe and Nicky tonight, not after what happened earlier in the day. He was too fragile, too weak to hold himself together and it wasn’t their responsibility to put together his broken pieces after all.

That’s all he was after all, millions of broken pieces, scattered here and there and everywhere with no hope of ever becoming whole again. And while he may have felt the closest to being whole earlier in the day, he still could not help that nagging voice that always reminded him that regardless of how many others he saved, he still failed to save his own boys.

“Have you not gotten your fill of smoke for the day?” Nicky’s voice pulled him back to the moment and he smirked at his comment.

“Go back to bed, Nicolo,” Booker muttered as he took another drag from the cigarette and kept his gaze fixed on the stars in the sky.

“Bed is too cold without you there,” Nicky replied solemnly before joining Booker on the steps and wrapping a blanket around both of their shoulders.

“You’ve survived centuries without me, something tells me that one night will not be unbearable. Besides, Joe is going to be worried if you’re gone too long.”

“Joe is more worried about you two freezing than he is about returning to bed,” Joe cut in from behind them, carrying a tray full of mugs and a sleeve of biscuits. Booker sighed and stubbed out the end of his cigarette, reluctantly accepting the fact that he would not be left alone tonight. He silently took the mug that Joe offered him, mostly to warm his hands rather than to actually drink. Once Joe had passed the other mug to Nicky, he settled on Booker’s other side with his own mug in hand, taking a small sip before shifting closer so the outside of his thigh was pressed against Booker’s.

They sat quietly for a while, just sipping on tea and waiting for each other to break the silence. After a few minutes, Booker was growing frustrated and he sighed, glancing back and forth between Joe and Nicky. “Is there something you’d like to talk about?” He asked curtly, eyes falling to the mug in his hands.

“Only if you want to talk about it,” Joe replied easily, glancing over at him.

“And if I don’t?” Booker asked.

“Then we will wait here until you do,” Nicky supplied and took a sip of his tea before reaching across Booker to steal a biscuit from Joe. 

“And what if I don’t change my mind? What if I don’t want to talk to you about it?” Booker challenged and met Nicky’s gaze.

“Then at least you will know that we are here if you ever want to,” Nicky said gently, running a hand through Booker’s hair to sweep it out of his face.

Booker let out a dark laugh and shook his head, taking a sip of his now luke-warm tea. “You don’t get it, do you? I can’t talk to either of you about it because you don’t understand; you will never understand.”

He could feel Joe and Nicky looking at each other over his ducked head but he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. Let them have their silent conversations. Let them forget that he is there and maybe, just maybe they will learn to leave him alone.

“Just because we may not understand, does not mean we cannot try to help,” Joe said slowly.

“And what can you do?” Booker turned to look at him. “Can you take away this curse? Can you raise loved ones from the dead? Can you go back in time and ease my boys’ suffering? Could you have saved Julien?” His voice caught at the end and he immediately snapped his mouth shut to keep it from breaking entirely.

Nicky and Joe fell dead silent, weighing his words in their minds. Meanwhile Booker pointedly looked back up at the sky and willed his eyes to stop shedding tears. He knew he had said too much, yet at the same time he had said nowhere near enough. In the back of his mind he was vaguely aware that Nicky had rested his head against his shoulder and Joe had wrapped an arm around his waist. Their warmth was comforting especially when on the inside he felt nothing but loss.

“What did you mean just now about Julien, _mon coeur_?” Nicky asked quietly, finding one of Booker’s hands with his own and lacing their fingers together. “You saved his life today, because of you he did not die.”

“I merely did what any father would do,” Booker said quietly, his voice shaking as he tried his best to figure out how to answer the question. “It is but a cruel trick of fate that I should be able to save a stranger’s child yet failed to save my own.”

“But that is not your fault, Basti,” Joe murmured with a fair amount of certainty. “You know that we have no control over our abilities.” Booker barely heard him over the thoughts in his own head. He sat there, simmering in his thoughts for a moment and Joe and Nicky fell silent around him again, waiting him out with a patience that could only be perfected over the course of a millenia. 

“Did you know,” Booker’s voice cracked and he winced before starting again. “Did you know that one of my boys died before me?” He glanced up at each of them and received shaking heads in return.

“He used to have fits. Ever since he was a child. I used to stay up all hours of the night because I was afraid to leave him alone,” Booker said with a faint smile. “As he grew older, they became less frequent. I stopped spending nights in his room, started letting him out of my sight when he played outside.”

He sighed and Nicky gave his hand a gentle squeeze, a silent urge for him to continue. “And then one day,” Booker faltered barely and cleared his throat. “One day we were at the beach. My wife was pregnant with our youngest and the two oldest were out playing in the water. I had taught them to swim when they were young so I wasn’t too concerned. Until I looked up and could only see Andre above the waves. By the time we found my oldest, he had had a fit and drowned in less than three feet of water.”

Booker could tell he was crying again, but this time it was not in anger or fear, but rather exhaustion and incredibly postponed grief.

“That day has haunted my dreams ever since. I could not tell you any of my family’s birthdays or what my anniversary was anymore, but I can remember every godforsaken second of that day.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat and closed his eyes, forcing himself to take a deep breath. “You say you believe in destiny or fate, perhaps even karma, but whatever you want to call it, there is a reason why we were in the right place at the right time this morning. And there is a reason why the boy I saved today shared his name with my son.”

“Whether it was meant as a reminder of my failings as a father or rather a second chance, I don’t know. But I am too scared to go back to sleep and find out, so please do not ask me to.”

There was a long pause as Booker’s words sunk in and Nicky and Joe each moved closer to wrap him in their embrace. Joe spoke up first, as he often did.

“My heart breaks for you and your loss and the pain it has brought you, but you must know that his death is not your fault. That burden is not yours to bear, mon amour. It was a tragic accident and you should not hold that against yourself. I’m sure he would be proud to know how many people his papa has saved since then.” Joe spoke quietly but firmly, refusing to let Booker argue with any of his points.

Nicky nodded quietly in agreement and hugged Booker tightly. “I’m sorry that you have felt the need to keep this to yourself all these years, Basti. Thank you for telling us, I know that it’s rarely easy to give a voice to past events, especially ones that have caused so much pain.”

Booker nodded his appreciation and stayed quiet, slowly relaxing into Joe and Nicky’s arms. He would never admit it but it did feel good to get it off his chest and out into the open. He had a sneaking suspicion that this would not be the last of these late night conversations, and for the first time in his life, Booker felt surprisingly okay about that, so long as he had these two by his side.


End file.
